The village was quiet in the deepening twilight.
Ren followed his mother through the narrow dirt paths winding between thatched roofs and flickering lanterns. The faint scent of cooking fires and damp earth clung to the air. Children's laughter echoed distantly, but the joy felt distant from Ren's thoughts.
He had crossed a threshold.
Not just from boy to man, or from wanderer to hunter. From someone cursed to sleep forever to a Sleeper—the first rank after passing the initial nightmare trial.
The Spell Interface hovered unseen above his palm, its dull glow the only sign of the impossible changes roiling beneath his skin.
He remembered the first night in the Mire—the moment the spell infected him.
A Sleeper's awakening began not with power but with infection: the spell's curse took root in the body, corrupting flesh and spirit alike. It seeped silently, invisible and unrelenting, carrying with it a trail of nightmares.
These nightmares were no ordinary dreams. They were vivid torments crafted by the spell—personal trials that forced the Sleeper to confront their deepest fears, their pain, their despair. The first nightmare, the trial he had just completed, had tested his will and endurance to the breaking point.
Only by facing and completing these nightmares could a Sleeper ascend beyond the spell's grasp.
Failure meant madness, or eternal imprisonment within endless sleep.
Ren had faced his trial, one harrowing step at a time—moments of suffocating darkness, visions of decay and venom coursing through his veins, shadows twisting into monstrous forms that sought to devour him from within.
But he had endured.
He had completed the nightmare, his will hardened by pain and resolve. The spell's infection settled deep in his soul, binding him with a divine aspect that twisted poison into power.
This aspect was no simple gift, but a double-edged sword.
He could feel the venom essence pulsing inside him now, a steady rhythm that both empowered and corrupted. The crude dagger—the Memory forged from the Grovetongue's fang—rested safely in his Soul Sea, waiting for him to summon it again.
But there was more. The **Flaw** he carried — Drifting Corruption — meant his presence rotted the world around him slowly but surely. Even as he gained strength, he was a walking blight.
What Ren didn't know yet was that on the coming winter solstice, just a few weeks away, Sleepers like him were transported into the Dream Realm—a mysterious plane where their true ascension awaited.
But for now, that fate remained hidden.
As they entered the small cottage, his mother paused. Her eyes searched his face, searching for answers she didn't yet understand.
Ren swallowed hard.
"I'm not the same," he said softly. "The nightmares... they were real. The poison is inside me now."
She reached out, touching his arm with trembling fingers.
"The village whispers about those who disappear... those who never return from the Mire. Are you... one of them?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm a Sleeper now," Ren said, eyes fixed on the floor. "The spell infected me, and I had to face the nightmares. I had to fight through the darkness to survive. I've awakened. I have power now—poison runs through me. I can feel it."
He hesitated, then added, "But it comes with a cost. Wherever I go, life weakens. The plants wither. Animals avoid me. Even people..."
His mother's gaze softened, a mixture of fear and pride. "You've always been different. But you're still my son."
Ren looked up, a faint hope flickering inside him.
"I will learn to control it," he promised. "To protect us all."
As night deepened outside, the two sat quietly, bound by the unspoken truth of Ren's awakening.
He was no longer just a boy from the village.
He was a Sleeper who had stared into the abyss — and lived.
But the journey had only just begun.